


Lust Bomb

by RowboatCop



Series: Cliche Interruptus (or 5 Times the Avengers Interrupt Skye and Coulson During a Sex Cliche, and One Time They Don't) [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Coulson has amazing control, F/M, Lust Monsters, Sex Pollen, Slightly dub con because sex pollen, Weird use of Gamma Radiation, Which makes this practically crack fic, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson and Skye find themselves in a potentially deadly sex pollen scenario (because who doesn't love sex pollen?) and are saved by Bruce Banner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to totally suspend disbelief about the use of gamma radiation herein. This whole series is basically crack!fic anyways, and Simmons handwaves it away.

She and Coulson are sitting on the floor of an empty room in the strange lab, leaning up against one of the glass walls as she presses her cell phone to her ear. Coulson has managed to get her into his lap, has curled himself around her, and she wonders if there’s some stupid part of his brain that’s trying to protect her.

His nose runs down the side of her neck, though, and she thinks its really not so much about protection.

“Okay, Skye, based on our readings and what you’re describing, it sounds like it was low level gamma exposure.”

Simmons’s voice is completely terrified, and it’s strangely calming. The smartest person Skye has ever met is totally on this.

“So, like, we’re going to turn into Hulks?” She tries to make it a joke because if it’s funny, it’s not so scary. (That could be a chapter of her biography. Or the title of her biography.)

“Actually, Fitz and I think that _might_ have been the point of the trap. But you and Director Coulson managed to escape the blast range quickly enough that you didn’t take the full level of radiation.”

“That’s good, then, right?”

Simmons doesn’t answer, and Coulson’s arms contract around her waist as he nuzzles against the side of her head. She isn’t sure if he’s trying harder to hear the phone call or to smell her hair. His slow, deep inhalation answers the question.

“Simmons?”

“It’s good in that we don’t think you’ll suffer those kind of side effects, but…”

“But…”

“But Skye, we have no confidence that that there _is_ such a thing as a non-lethal dose of gamma radiation.” Simmons’s voice is shaking, and Skye is no longer calm. “I need you to tell me if you’re having any symptoms.”

Skye swallows, and Coulson’s hands start to run from her stomach up towards her breasts before he seems to catch himself and return them to her waist.

“I...yes? It’s mostly...Coulson. He got me out and took more of the blast.”

Because he’s stupid. A stupid, overprotective, sweet, loyal man who would never leave a room when anyone was still inside. And she would slap him upside the head, except that he seems sort of...drunk. But he’s also keeping himself very carefully controlled.

“Skye.” Simmons takes a deep breath; it sounds like she’s about to give some really bad news. “Is it _sexual arousal_?” She whispers it like it’s a dirty phrase, and Skye almost laughs.

“Yes? There’s...some...of that.”

She can hear Simmons swallow, a few noises in the background.

“We think that’s a normal physiological symptom, but there have been so few tests on subjects exposed to gamma radiation who were able to give any sort of feedback and…”

Simmons cuts herself off with a gasp.

“I’m so sorry, Skye. You must be terrified and I’m treating you like a science experiment.”

“It’s okay,” Skye answers. “I get it. The more you know about this, the more you can help.”

“Look, Fitz and I have a few ideas. He’s going to see if he can find anything in any of Doctor Banner’s research, and we’ll go from there. You need to stay there until we determine if the surrounding area is safe. I'll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“Sounds good.” It doesn’t actually sound that good — it sounds sort of hopeless and like FitzSimmons are going to be stretching for every last resort and like maybe she and Coulson are going to die. Like maybe Coulson is going to go first.

“Is it...are you _okay_? The... _side effects_ aren’t making Director Coulson… I mean, he isn’t...”

“No,” Skye cuts her off. “No, Simmons. He’s... It’s fine.”

“You have an ICER, don’t you? If you need to…”

“I won’t need to,” Skye answers.

“Okay,” Simmons replies, her voice shaking and unsure. “I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”

Skye’s hand shakes as she hangs up the phone, but Coulson’s arm slides along hers, steadying her. His nose is pressed to her neck, and she can _feel_ the self restraint that’s stopping him from doing more than breathing her in. But even the feel of air moving through her hair, against her skin, just over her ear, is driving her insane.

“Simmons says that these are...normal physiological symptoms,” she tells him unnecessarily. He probably heard, but she’s not really sure how well his brain is actually working.

“Who would have thought?” He speaks the words just under her ear, and they make her shiver.

“Yeah, it’s definitely not part of the brochure. Rage monster, yes. Lust monster, no.”

“Hmm,” he sighs against her. “I don't feel that different than normal. Just harder to control it.”

“Not that different than normal? You walk around every day having to stop yourself from grabbing my boobs?”

His reply is another sigh in her ear.

“And your legs,” he adds. 

His hands run from her stomach down to her thighs, rub up and down on the tops of her thighs in a way that's almost safe. Except that they're both aroused and she can feel his erection pressing against her.

“You have great legs." He almost moans the words as he reluctantly moves his hands back to her stomach.

“Thanks,” she tells him, eyebrows furrowed and voice skeptical. It’s possible that Coulson is being a little too honest right now. “But I’m not exactly a supermodel or something.”

“No, you’re _Skye_.” As though it explains everything. She turns her neck enough to meet his eyes — and he looks a little sleepy, a little out of it, a lot aroused, but still like himself — and she thinks maybe it _does_ explain everything.

Skye shifts as she turns back forward, and Coulson groans as she rubs against the very obvious erection that has been pressed against her backside.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s okay.” But his arms are wrapped so tightly around her waist, his breathing is so harsh in her ear as he tries to calm himself, and he just sounds...not okay.

Skye is trying to hold it together — she really really is — but her whole body feels like it’s on fire. All she can think about is taking off her clothes and pressing every part of her against Coulson, and she knows that he’s much worse off.

“Should we try some distance?”

Coulson’s first instinct, when he had realized what was happening, had been to keep his distance, and Skye is starting to feel bad that she shot it down. She had wanted to comfort him, to weather this out together, but now its looking like that only made things worse, especially because he has been so adamant about _not_ giving into the lust that’s clouding their brains. (She doesn’t know whether to be offended that he’s _so_ adamant about that.)

“Probably,” he answers, but his hands start wandering again. When he cups her breasts over her shirt, letting them fill his hands as his thumbs drag back and forth across her nipples, Skye moans loudly and thrusts her chest forward.

Any possibility of getting up from his lap shrinks to zero.

“God, I’m so sorry, Skye,” he mumbles against her neck.

“Don’t be sorry,” she answers. “Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not sure I _could_ stop.” He sounds ashamed of himself as his hands slide under her shirt and back up to her breasts, pulling aside her bra.

“I _want_ this,” she tells him.

“I didn’t want it to be like this. I wanted…romance.”

He drags his thumbs across her nipples again, and shudders against him, melts into his lap.

“No offense, but I’m a lot more bothered by the absence of _choice_.” _His_ choice mostly. _She’s_ fine with this, but he’s more out of it, and he doesn’t want this. Or, he doesn’t want this _like this_.

“I chose you… I chose _this_ a long time ago,” he answers, closing his thumb and index fingers around her nipples and grinding himself up against her.

“Then you should know that I’ve never really been the kind of girl who goes for romance.”

“Yes,” he answers, nuzzling his face into her hair until his lips meet her neck. He kisses and then bites gently below her ear. “I know. But I want to show you.”

“Show me?”

He lets out a stream of air that might be a chuckle, and she gasps, presses her body back against his and her breasts further into his hands.

“Take you somewhere nice, with a big bed and a hot tub, and make it all about you.”

“Is that the part where you make me come until I can’t move?”

He puffs out another silent laugh.

“No, that’s pretty much about me.”

If Coulson wants to selfishly pleasure her until she passes out, Skye thinks it’s a cross she can probably bear.

“If I were making it about you, I’d do whatever you wanted me to do.”

“Whatever I wanted?”

“Hmm.” His hum of agreement is pressed into her neck, makes her shiver.

“It would be romantic for me to tell you what to do?”

“Wouldn’t it?” He pulls one hand off of her breast and uses it to turn her face towards his. His whole face is softer than she’s used to seeing it, but his eyes are hard and purposeful and almost black because of his dilated pupils. It’s a study in contrasts, in the same way that his obvious physical arousal is contrasted with soft words and gentle touches.

“Yes,” she answers as she turns herself on his lap in order to kiss him. He kisses back desperately, like he needs to her to live, but he also doesn’t force it, doesn’t take control.

“Skye,” he breathes her name against her lips as he responds to her kisses, lets himself be kissed. She realizes, then, what he means about making it about her — letting her have control. Making her come until she can’t move is just another way of him keeping control, but letting her have whatever she wants…

“Coulson…”

“Call me Phil,” he begs her — _begs_ her.

“If I do that, I think you’ll probably pin me to the ground.”

“Only if you want me to,” he counters.

Which, yeah, she really does. It’s nice that their desires can line up so well.

The series of steps that lead to her on her back with Coulson hovering over her are hazy. But suddenly he’s there, sliding his lips down her neck as he fights, one handed, with the zipper on her jeans.

Skye laughs and brushes his hands away to unfasten them by herself, and Coulson is rapidly engaged in pulling her jeans and panties down and off. He parts her legs and dips his head forward, but stops himself suddenly.

She thinks he’s about to ask if she really wants this, and she answers him preemptively with a hand on the back of his head. Coulson smirks up at her and pushes forward again, slides both thumbs up to spread apart her labia before diving in, swirling his tongue against her like he can’t decide what he wants to do first. Even his breath against her makes her shudder, and the quick movements of his tongue are unbearably good.

Her hand on the back of his head is gentle at first, running softly through his hair, but she quickly begins to use it to direct him — pushing down and pressing her fingers against him.

“God, like that.”

Coulson moans as he takes the direction, focusing his tongue in small, firm circles.

“Keep talking to me,” he manages to get out.

It makes her self conscious at first, worrying about saying sexy things, but Coulson’s insistent tongue draws it out. She tells him _exactly_ what she wants, and his mouth and his fingers and his tongue all take her direction perfectly.

“Phil,” she sighs his name as she gets closer, and is shocked by his loud groan against her, as though he’s enjoying this more that she possibly could be. It sends her almost to the edge, and her hand contracts against the back of his head.

Any further thoughts of pleasure are cut off, though, by a loud crash from behind, followed by the sound of a gun firing. Coulson slumps over her, like he’s been shot, and Skye’s blood runs cold. Like, her whole body is numb, almost immovable, with horror and fear. There’s a moment of complete and utter _panic_ , and then a loud voice calls:

“It was a tranquilizer!”

And then the not-quite-familiar face of Bruce Banner enters the room holding a gun.

“You shot him!”

“With a tranquilizer.”

“Tranquilizer.”

Warmth starts to seep back into her body, and panic recedes enough that she can tell that Coulson is not, in fact, dead. She sits up, though Coulson is still sprawled across her, and runs her hands over the back of his neck, around to feel his pulse and his breath.

“Your biochemist friend told me that he’d probably be making unwanted advances.” Banner stops then, and looks her over, seems to bite back a smile. “Not so unwanted?”

“No,” she answers. “We’re… They don’t know.” Skye doesn’t bother to explain beyond that, too focused on Coulson to care about anything else.

“It’s very mild,” he offers. “It shouldn’t last ten minutes.”

Skye nods, and her cognitive skills finally come back online. She’s half naked, she and Coulson have been poisoned, and they need to act now.

“Could you turn around while I…”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Doctor Banner turns around, and Skye carefully rolls Coulson onto his back before sliding on her panties and jeans.

“So what do we need to do?”

“To do?” When he turns around again, Banner seems just _unbearably_ awkward, and Skye isn’t sure how to react.

“I assume you’re here to make sure we don’t die?”

“Right,” he nods, and proceeds to pull out a med kit and a series of injections. “Since he took the bigger brunt of the blast, I’ll start with him while he’s out.”

Skye nods her approval of the plan, and helps Banner remove Coulson’s jacket to expose his arm.

“You seem not very bothered to see that Coulson is alive,” Skye says, semi-conversationally.

“Am I supposed to be bothered?”

“Most of the others have been. At least a little. Because they were lied to.”

“I see that. No one likes being lied to.”

“No, they don’t,” she agrees.

“But that’s what SHIELD does. Or did. The only reason I’m on the grid is because Nick Fury had me tagged and tracked.”

“That’s sort of why I’m here, too,” Skye tells him, smiling, as she runs a hand across Coulson’s forehead.

“They tracked you and brought you in?”

“Yup.”

“Against your will?”

“Not really. I’m a hacker, and...they only found me because I wanted to be found.”

“That sounds like something Natasha would say,” Banner laughs.

Skye grins at that, sort of really flattered.

“I was working an angle at first. But Coulson is a good man. He’s doing his best to keep the world safe.”

“I only met him once,” Banner admits as he finishes the rounds of injections and then gestures to her arm. “The day he died, actually.”

“Well, I can’t really vouch for him then,” Skye admits. “But after they brought him back, he learned a lot about not keeping so many secrets.”

“Are you giving me a SHIELD pitch right now?” Banner frowns at her, and Skye looks down.

“Maybe I should wait until you’re not sticking needles in my arm, right?”

“The needles are what scare you? I’d be more worried about making me angry.”

His words are scary, but his tone is self-consciously joking — she can’t tell whether he wants her to be scared or not, and it annoys her.

“I don’t think you like letting out that part of you any more than I’d like meeting him,” she tells him, making hard eye contact. “So your little...pseudo-threats? Not working.”

“She can be really scary herself, when she wants to be,” Coulson says, and both she and Bruce look down to see him waking up. Skye starts to reach towards him, but Banner holds her arm in place as he finishes the last injection.

“You’re awake,” Banner says, in a very doctor-y voice. “Feeling better?”

“I have a headache, but otherwise fine,” Coulson admits. “Thank you for your help, Doctor Banner.”

“Not a problem. I wasn’t far away, and Natasha and Clint picked me up.”

Skye nods at that, not having actually stopped to think about how or why Bruce Banner would have shown up.

“I see you met Skye.” Coulson is the picture of professionalism and courtesy, even when he’s groggily sitting up in a wrinkled suit. It’s not a trait Skye has ever consciously cared for in a man before, but in Coulson it’s incredibly charming.

“We haven't been formally introduced,” Banner admits as he finishes the last shot and then extends his hand. She takes it, shakes it once, firmly.

“She’s my second in command,” Coulson tells him, and Skye grins at the pride in his voice, at the way he smiles at her. He still looks just a little inebriated, and a lot sexy.

“You brought in a hacker who’s not a fan of secrets as SHIELD’s second in command?”

“I told you,” Skye cuts in, “New Coulson, New SHIELD.”

Banner smiles, like he doesn’t mean to do it but can’t keep it back, and Skye relaxes as she and Coulson catch him up.


End file.
